


Ice So Cold it Burns

by jetblacklilac



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, emotionally stunted jon, i'd say slow burn but the flame went out, lil angst, post breakup, they have an angelic daughter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-08-03 23:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16335242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetblacklilac/pseuds/jetblacklilac
Summary: A perfect family image is what both Targaryens and Starks have tried to achieve. Naturally, their children had this urge in them as well. So that must be the reason why Jon and Sansa hasn't told anyone in their family they've broken up years ago. Alys is the only reason they talk to each other and perhaps their daughter has a plan up her small sleeves for her parents.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in an hour its so rushed im so sorry. idk if i'll continue this though but comments and kudos are appreciated !!!!

Clicks of stilettoes, echoed in the empty school corridor, it was a frantic rhythm. It finally ceased when the tall redheaded woman paused by an open classroom door. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The meeting was unplanned!” She huffed, attempting to catch her breath form the sudden break of sprint she did earlier.

The elderly woman with her grey hair painfully twisted into a bun, gave her a smile of understanding.  
“It wasn’t a problem, Miss Stark. Alys, why don’t you retrieve your bag?” Miss Mordane kindly requested.

But the young girl, with shoulder length fiery locks and stunning amethyst eyes stared at her homeroom teacher with a frown.  “What’s retrieve, Miss Mordane?” She asked with a northern accent she has gotten from her family. Not her mother, no she spent her college in King’s Landing but eventually drifted back to her home town.

 _Even when people say she looks like me, she acts like Jon._ Oh how Sansa detested that thought. “It means get your bag from the shelf, love.” She answers.

Alys bounces off to the towering shelf with the stylish one sided braid brushing against her cheek peppered with freckles. She hums a rhyme, no doubt she learned it in class.

“You and Mr Snow can inform me anytime if your schedule delays you. I don’t mind. Your daughter is such a doll.” The teacher coos with a fond smile. Precisely the unintentional effect Alys ha son everyone around her.

The little girl stood with her dazzling pink backpack strapped to her bag. Looking at her with those sparkling violet eyes, she says “Let’s go, Mum. I don’t want to be late.”

 _Jon’s little girl, truly._ Sansa huffs in her thought but nonetheless holds her tiny hand and leads her to the car. She hides a giggle beneath her tongue when she’s being waved off at strapping the seat belt on her daughter. “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay, Mum but I’m big now. I chose this outfit myself.” The five year old girl announces with pride, her freckled cheeks denting. What she wore was a miraculously coordinated pink sweater tucked in carnation skirt, and dark velvet boots.

“Ah yes. You look beautiful, so very much.” Sansa truthfully answers. After the engine roaring to life, the drive to the apartment complex won’t be long. A few preppy songs in the radio and she’s already found a parking spot. It wouldn’t be surprised if that is the reason why he chose to live so close to a constantly cacophonous playground a few blocks over. “How was school, pumpkin?”

The girl bounced on her seat. “Oh, it was so fun, mum! We played with a lot of new toys. When I said recess is my favourite period, Miss Mordane laughed at me! I asked her if it’s not a subject then why did my mama put it in my schedule? She only laughed.” She rambles on and on, her hands waving and happiness is such a glow on her little one. “How was your day, Mum?”

Sansa genuinely wanted to recount on how utterly stressful it is to handle a multimillion high fashion magazine. Being an aspiring editor in such a competitive field is draining but it’s her passion. And besides, her daughter couldn’t understand all of the complexities in her life. _Jon included,_ she thought with a little laugh.

“Darling, I had a lovely day. How was the sandwich I made for you today?” She hums, lowering the volume of some lovesick song because she wants to hear Alys talk more.

A pout twists Alys’ small mouth. It was so adorable, so eerily resembling her father that there was no doubt where she got those fleeting streaks of being ruminant. “There were vegetables in my _chicken_ sandwich. Did you have my lunch,  mum?” She demands, her shrill voice cutting off her anger and her thick eyebrows are cinched together.

“It’s healthy for you.”

“I’ll just ask Daddy to buy me ice cream.” She sharply says, crossing her arms.

Sansa smiles, staring off at the little to no traffic, and she knows her wish would be granted in a mere second. She knows how her father won’t hesitate in spoiling her rotten, in giving her everything in a way he never had when he was young, casted off into the shadows because of his parents. It’s always so fascinating to see him act so devastatingly tender towards such a fragile little girl, with love softening his face.

The guards posted at the entrance didn’t need an I.D. from her. She practically lives here, in the sleek onyx building that’s twenty-five floors high in the sky. They step in the transparent elevator. Alys had her hands on the walls, staring in genuine awe at how fast they’re moving, at how the floors blend into a thick cream colour beyond their touch. She _always_ gasps when the elevator halts at their destination.

“Alys-!” Sansa barely finished in saying her name when Alys ran out of the elevator, bag swinging, her boots don’t make a sound against the carpeted floor but no doubt it’s the expensive maple flooring. Her hand that doesn’t hold another bag is tightly clenched, her jaw clenched almost painfully and her face slipping into a mask.

She ignores the tiny impatient foot taps beside her. Staring at the cursive golden number of his apartment, _49_ , she hesitates. Years ago, the elation of Alys’ would’ve been contagious and she too would be bouncing on her feet, her hands fretting on her hairstyle, constantly fixing herself up. But Jon wouldn’t care, would only wound his arm on her waist and kiss her with a passion she hasn’t known. _Or will I ever again,_ she sternly reminds herself.

Alys knocked in a series of rapid successions.

The door opened and there, at the other side is Jon. It was evident he too just come home from work because his crisp white shirt is tucked out from his tight black slacks. When he smiles down at Alys with that adoring smile, her heart tightens for two breaths. “Darling.” He says and opens his arms.

She recalled the times Jon would use the same pet name for her, soft in love, and his eyes would  _glitter._ It's no wonder why they lasted so long, years and to their familie's assumption, until now. 

In a flash of an eye, Alys is standing on her toes, pressing her face on his stomach, her arms around his torso, and squeals. “Daddy, I missed you!” She shrieks in utter glee.

“I missed you too. Say, I have a surprise for you in your bedroom.” He urges as he drops a kiss at the top of her head and rubs her back.

“Yay!” She shouts and turns down a corridor.

Sansa doesn’t know any other part of his apartment except for the view of his living room. She’s never been inside his apartment, the new one he bought after, after…..

“Here.” She says, handing him the medium sized ashen bag. It has a words “Weekend Bag”. She stitched it on the bag herself, in dull spruce color so it stands out on the grey colour of the bag. It contained everything their daughter needed. She even put in a schedule of Alys’ routine though she suspects they rarely follow her rigid rules. From what she can tell, they eat sweets, watch Disney movies all night, and sleep all day.

_Once, my heart would’ve burst at that thought._

“Thank you, Sans.” Jon says with a cough, rubbing the nape of his neck. His awkwardness didn’t fade away in puberty the way his lanky body and horrid shaggy hairstyle did. Though through the years, his body is packed with toned muscles, his face has a thick beard, and he will always be the same Jon to her. Even if he changes everything about him, whether she likes it or not, he will never change.

“Of course.” She curtly replied.   _And please stop saying that nickname._ If she spoke her thought out loud then it would leave behind disasters that aren’t needed in her already chaotic life. It has been a near five years since they broke up, since the supposed red fated thread around them is snapped, and still he uses that nickname only he can make it sound so sweet. Why did the gods give him this unfair power over her? “Good night.” She says in dismissal, turning away from him, and walks down the elevator.

“Wait.”

And to her utter disgust, her body freezes as though he has a silver tongue and she’s his victim. _Isn’t that love?_ She waits until he’s in front of her. Her hands draw together, fingernails biting into her skin because she wants to leave the place already. The grey in his eyes is so mesmerizing it isn’t a surprise why they lasted for so long. _That’s the past. This is the present, the beginning after our ending._

“My aunt wants us to have brunch with them, the lot of them with my brother and sister.” Jon says as he shifts in his footing. By siblings, he meant the half-siblings he grew up with, under the same deceased father that died with Jon’s mother in some tragic car accident.

Daenerys, their aunt, had taken it upon herself to raise them up and it makes the overdue news of their breakup much more painful. The blonde is so _happy_ in knowing her nephew is in a “stable” and loving relationship with a girl he met in college. What she didn’t know is how they’ve called it quits a few weeks before Sansa knew she was pregnant. Jon’s aunt and his siblings are still so supportive towards them it makes Sansa _think_.

But that’s a road destroyed by the broken bridges that could’ve led to Jon, her once thought happiness.

Sansa released a breath in an irritating manner. Of course he would only talk to her, outside the concerns of their daughter, because of hits façade they’ve been exercising. Both of their families are oblivious to the drift underneath their shoes, of how the only kind of love between them is in the form of Alys. Romance isn’t in her vocabulary anymore.

“Where?”

“At the mansion on Sunday.” The famed Targaryen estate is generations old, with its decorations their ancestors dedicated to dragons, to gold and glory they used to love and live for. It had a vast front yard, a lot of space for Alys to run around while Jon chases her, pretending to be a wolf in the dragon’s territory. His eyes drop to the floor, almost ashamed. “I-I’ll pick you up at your apartment around ten.” 

“Of course.” She agrees, her tone would’ve made an iceberg envy at how chilled it is, how vacant and aloof. She dips her chin and she exits the building with her palms burning with half-crescent moons embedded in her skin.


	2. I Won't Rip the Bandaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa don't do the typical heart to heart talk like couples should do. She likes to think she knows Jon, with all the years behind them but Margaery convinces her otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i hope y'all like this, i think i'll take this story super slow (lmao so sorry!) or maybe just add more in this chapter. let me know what you think of it!!!

 “I’m home!” Sansa announces as she peels off the heavy caramel trench coat off her slim body and hangs it on the coat rack.

“Oh evening!” Margaery hastily greets her. The woman with shining copper locks held a ladle on one hand and the ends of her frilly laced apron. “I’m trying to cook this new recipe my yoga instructor gave. And _honestly_ I need your opinion on it! It’s low fat, gluten free, and a hundred per cent organic.” She declared all in one breath.

She laughs. The eccentric heiress of the Tyrell Empire has always been a little too eager in experimenting, whether it is with people or food, Margaery knows no bounds. “All right.” She reluctantly concedes.

Afterwards, when the surprisingly appetizing food is consumed, they both settle in the aesthetically decorated living room, with an iced drink on their hands as the television features some film she doesn’t recognize.

“I’d like to have your daughter in my photo shoots. The clothing line for children is almost done, all we need is a few beautiful children to wear them before we splash your magazines of my dazzling works.” Margaery requested. Since her legacy is within the fashion realm, almost royalty most critics have proclaimed her to be, there wasn’t any sense to deny her. And besides, little ALys loves her fun loving and adventurous aunt.

Sansa takes a sip of her iced coffee, the metals straw clinking before she finds herself to answer. “I’d have to speak with Jon. And oh, have I told you? His aunt wants us to have brunch with them again.” It isn’t necessarily a whine borne out of complaint.

Sansa enjoys the company of the esteemed senator. The blonde is quite a delightful conversationalist if she gets what she wants that is. Jon didn’t say it in many ways, had remembered when they started this sickening charade, how _scared_ he was of disappointing their families with their failed relationship. His supposed beloved aunt would’ve hated any sort of scandal her family would create. And this, having a child out of wedlock, and they’re not even together, would send Danaerys in a fit of rage befitting their ancient family crest.

_“Even with your family, no offense but yours is so perfect and I couldn’t resist in butting in when I was so young. I don’t know what she’d do if she found out, if my siblings found out I’m actually a failure, someone like our dad….. Don’t you see how happy they are when we’re together? Catelyn actually smiles at me, commenting on how I’m a fine father. Ned-Ned, gods, it’s like getting the approval of Heaven itself.” He whispered but it was so loud in her ears. His eyes of grey mist were shining with tears, and when he tightened his grip on her chilled hands, it was because they were both crying. At the loss of their love, at what they have to do for the sake of others but Sansa is secretly rejoiced at having some connection with him._

_Sansa traces her finger across his knuckles, the same ones she’d kiss when they were sixteen and he punched Joffrey bloody for mistreating her. Aren’t you supposed to be my knight in shining armor? Why are you leaving me? She wanted to ask but the answers could very well be the sword strapped to a knight’s waist, aimed at her bleeding heart._

“If I locked the both of you in a room, I could finally understand why you’re playing this game.” The fashion designer huffed, a frown on her plump lips and she takes a sip of her iced beverage.

“It’s for them, Marg. Better off they don’t know what has happened.” She conscientiously removed the grief out of her tone. To try and not delve in the pain every time their actions are brought upon the harsh light because Sansa is tired of feeling the want conquer the blood in her veins. “And you know how _his_ family of politicians would react if they found out, we just don’t want that drama.” She says the rehearsed line, an overused excuse she fears the truth behind it might becoming clearer to anyone.

The movie is ignored because Sansa’s dilemma is far more intersting than adolescent romance or the fight for humanity’s survival or whatever film was on. Margaery pulls her knees to her chest and her eyes went wide, to inquisitive must to Sansa’s dismay. “You have a point, being the most considerate angels you both are. But what if either of you starts to date? Won’t everyone have a vertigo because you’re supposedly the perfect couple?”

Sansa sit straighter now, her hands clenching hard on the glass and if she had the strength, she would’ve shattered it. That had been her first protest to his idea because their hearts are hopeless in love and surely it won’t be long until he’ll want someone else.

_Jon laughs, whether out of mocking her or uneasiness she can’t tell. “I don’t think I’ll be dating for a long while. Besides I’m too busy with work. And I’m at that point wherein I’d rather have familiarity in my life, I don’t want to meet anyone new, it’s too much work.” He confesses._

_Sansa’s heart surges but she keeps her face vacant. “Yes, work and family are our most important priorities. But-if you or start seeing someone, you should. I want you to be happy.”_

_The forced comfortableness if lifted and his face went slack. His eyes hardened and he stiffly nods. “I am happy right now. Alys is a blessing to me, more than you’ll ever know.” He lowly says, with the usual frustrating cryptic theme of words he uses. Perhaps this is why there’s an icy wall between them, he never lets her in and she’s exhausted with all of it._

“Jon isn’t dating anyone as far as I know.”

Margaery giggles. “Oh and he’d tell you? Come on, love don’t you suspect he has a little action on the side? I mean _look_ at him. And besides, I don’t think he’d actually tell you, that’d be ridiculous.” She nonchalantly says with such confidence it baffles Sansa.

Her eyebrows furrows in confusion. “Why wouldn’t he tell me? It would complicate everything! He would have the decency to tell me of his-his…” She drank from her iced coffee, using her thirst to hide something else that made her throat close up.

“My dear, you don’t understand how awkward that would be! Telling your ex you have a new person in your life. Plus knowing him, your former knight, I’d say he doesn’t want to hurt you.” She supplies the puzzling answer in a calm tone.

 _We’ve hurt each other far and beyond any measure._ She wanted to say. The manner in which they’re so harsh at each other, wolves tearing into their prey’s throats, their blood gets redder with anger in their fights. At how they can argue for days but somehow not know how to communicate like normal people, like people who cared enough to talk things through. No, they only had fights that lasted for weeks, cold shoulders then not leaving the bed for days after because love bites and tender muscles litter their bodies.

They never talked but always fought.

“Do-do you think I’m ruined for dating then?” Sansa meekly asks.

Margaery’s finely arched brow arched. “Is this because you found the apparently perfect guy of your dreams? Jon is hot, kind, funny and really gentleman but you both don’t know how to communicate very well, which a surprise is coming from you. Plus he has major daddy issues.”

Sansa blinks then shrugs. “Well yes.”

“Nah you’ll find someone else. Don’t you fret! The next one will be even better than Jon, he’ll _want_ to talk about his feelings and be emotionally available.” She assures and pats Sansa’s knee. She retrieves their empty glasses and proceeds to walk in the kitchen, no doubt to wash it.

_How can anyone better than Jon? Aren’t we all flawed?_

 

 

 


	3. Constant Reminder of What Was

“Good morning, pretty rose.” A cheeky voice greeted Sansa.

 She smiles at the sight of Margaery so early in the morning, much more so after last night. Her best friend is in a colourfully tasteful dress with her auburn curls flowing down her back, bright eyes, and a dimpled grin that could have anyone melt at the sight of. “Good morning, beautiful.” She greets back as she places her morning coffee on its leather coaster and sets her bag down on her desk.

“As you know, besides being a party animal, I take my job religiously like how I’d determinedly finish a whole bottle of tequila.” Margaery starts and Sansa snorts in laughter. He hands her a file of a striking blonde.

“Are you setting me up with him?” Sansa questions with a quirk of her brow.  She does adore Margaery. One good thing that came out all those challenging years at college is having an eternal friendship with Margaery; almost like her own sister. She felt even luckier since it was such a coincidence that she works with her.

Margaery laughs. “Oh Gods, no! You deserve better. Besides, that’s my brother, Loras. He’s a talented singer and we had brunch the other day. He talked about this funny anecdote about how there were scouts at his one concert for a fashion show! He did it for the press. Then I thought, hey, why not use his fame for our gain!” She said all in admirably one breath.

She scanned through the photos and could already see the potential. He already has his fan base to being with so attracting people to buy this issue wouldn’t be a problem.  “That’s wonderful, Marg. You’re so dedicated to your work that you even think of it during brunch!” She teases with a small smile.

She tosses her hair on her shoulder. “Of course. I am _that_ amazing. Anyways, why did you assume this is a set up? Are you looking for a date?” The Tyrell delightedly asked as she settles herself on a chair in front of her desk. She grins, an evil glint in her eyes that got her in detention nearly his entire high school life.

She’s willing to try other people’s method of disappointing her in love. “Uh, well, I-I was just joking!” She lamely defends herself. Her eyes drop to the file and she reaches out to close it.

She leans back on the seat and shakes his head. “No, no, Sansa. You don’t get to lie to the master in everything. Are you feeling lonely? Do you need a pick me up with Jeyne and I?” She gently asked.

 _I don’t know how I feel._ Sansa sulks. “I’m not lonely.” _Just been alone though._ “I just thought it would make you laugh seeing as how I haven’t been on a date since forever.”

“Did you just call Jon forever? Huh, granted forever never last and he’ll eventually be six feet under.” Margaery suggests with a smirk, knowing this is her way of comforting her. She stands up as her cell phone rang. “Well, that’s Jeyne. She’s looking for her model of perfect employee.” She says and feigns a sigh.

“You mean she’s looking for me?”

They both laugh. Margaery bids a goodbye as he took a few sips from her coffee and finally exits her office.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

“If you had to pick, go on a date with a blonde singer or secretly help me in putting Jon six feet under?”

“I see Margaery still can’t put a lock on her lips.”

The bruennte smirks. “Is it too obvious?”

They both walk alongside each other and they each have a homemade package of cookies that Jeyne baked. It is known that Margaery’s protégée loves to bake and loves giving out to her boss’s friends. 

Jeyne is already halfway done with hers. She munches on the cookie on hand and glances at her. “You didn’t answer my question. So, I think the answer embarrasses you quite. I understand that murder is an immoral thing but ripping your heart out by an uncaring man is a crime itself-“

“-I don’t want Jon murdered!” Sansa whispers lowly as she sees her employees walking around, glancing at her with smiles. She pulls Jeyne to an empty office and sits down on one of the plush chairs.  “Look, I didn’t know what I was thinking and it was nine in the morning! No one should be held accountable for thinking the way they do at that time.”

“Excellent point there but I know your morning routines by heart, missy. From quarter to seven to seven thirty, you do your morning yoga, then you take a bath and after that, you’re dressed and already in the process of making your horribly organic shake and making me a mean strong cup of coffee.” Jeyne taps Sansa’s nose and crosses her arms. “By all of this, your mind and your ‘soul’ or ‘aura’ is wide awake.”

She grumbles beneath her breath and sighs. “Maybe it’s a self-deprecating joke. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. What do matter are the shots you are to show me for the next month’s issue.” Sansa firmly insists and   she receives the pile of photos in silence.

She carefully spreads them out to inspect the beautifully taken shots of their models, the article of clothing perfectly captured in each out that her job as an editor would be difficult. “Wow, these are gorgeous shots.”

Jeyne snorts. “That’s what you always say.” She dismisses the compliment and sits beside her.

“I’ll have to discuss the sequence of the shots with the rest of the board. Thank you as always, Jeyne.” Sansa compliments and gathers them all up and places them in their rightful place in the portfolios.

They walk out of the office and she spots a familiar brunette, talking to some of her subordinates. “Gilly.” Sansa calls out. When they were near enough, she smiles in relief to find the head of hr.

The brunette had her soft brown hair to her full cheeks. Her smile had dimple son the sides of her mouth and it seemed that she is characteristically amiable for her job. “Good morning, boss. What can I do for you? I was just asking our employees about the new espresso machine. And they love it! I knew that auto refill would really get to them.” She said with beaming pride that the women laughed.

“Though that is quite an achievement, I have to give you a heads up. Margaery’s brother will be coming here after lunch for his interview. His name is Loras Tyrell.” The way Gilly’s eyes lit up and her mouth gaped at the news; they all knew who he is and how much of a popular model he is.

“Yes Gilly, dreams do come true! Just last week you were singing covers of his albums in your office.” Jeyne jokingly pointed out. She tapped the heavy set of camera that hung around her neck. Almost waiting for a spontaneous photo shoots to happen and she is ready to take pictures.

Gilly nodded. “Okay, um, does he know where to go? Do I have to wait for him outside like this is an airport?” Even if she sounded serious, a little giggle bubbled in Sansa’s throat. The brunette jokingly narrows her eyes and huffed. “Okay, since you think it’s a joke, I’ll wait in my office at two p.m. sharp.” She offers. “I’ll find Margaery right now and tell her this. Have you seen her?”

Jeyne tilted her head to the side and rolled her eyes. “She’s about to argue with a person from sales for another shot of espresso. Better go in there and pacify him.” She informs the duo.

This doesn’t surprise Sansa in the slightest and barely flinched at the news.

But, Gilly groaned and clutched the files on her hands tighter. “She’s under my department and if I’m not watching over her, she’s off raising fists to our employees! That must be some coffee, boss. See you later!” She says in a hurry and her leather boots make subtle clicks as she ambles in the nearest cafeteria.

It doesn’t even feel like it is seven in the evening.

But, she could definitely the ache on her feet as she slips off her new stilettoes. She glowers at it as she spreads a medicated cream on her feet. Those shoes were brand new and were an exclusive edition in one of the Italian fashion shows she attended last week.

She lifts her feet to the pillow at the other end of the sofa and sips from the glass that has wine in it. She has never felt this relaxed in a while as she lies comfortably on her sofa and lazily reads a book. She isn’t even concerned that she’s alone and Margaery is on a dinner date with Yara right now.

A few chapters in her book, there were loud and repetitive knocks on her door.

Sansa frowns. She knows that Margaery has repeatedly stated that she’ll spend the night at her girlfriend’s apartment. When another set of knocks were heard, she marked and closed her book, and she lightly winced at the tingles on her slightly injured feet.

“Alys, darling.” She says in surprise. She tilts her head higher and frowned to see Jon. He was still wearing his dark fitted suit. His hair was messy and his eyes were a little dull so she knows his work and the day for him was exhausting. After all, inheriting the company from his father and having to be consistent and even more so successful can tire someone.

The redheaded girl grinned. “Hi, Mama. We’re here because I forgot Dino and I cannot sleep without him!” She said. It seems to be her utmost priority as she quickly hugs her legs then races into her room.

And in avertedly left her parents out to awkwardly stand and wait for her.

“Do you want to come in?” Sansa mumbles. She detested on how she is always meek whenever this man is around.

“I’d love to. Do you have beer, Sans?” He jokes as he entered the living room. He scans the room, his eyes studying the details of it. Interestingly, his lips quirked into a small smile when he noted the shiny red heels near the fireplace, her closed book, and the half-finished wine glass on the table.  “Are you using the cream Rhaenys suggested for those bruises caused by those devilish heels?” He asks as he sits down on one of her plush sofa.

Sansa nearly rolls her eyes.  One of the reasons why she was a complete fool for him is that Jon knows anything she would’ve done with a swipe around the room. But, it’s ironical how he turns a blind eye to what their relationship needed. “Of course I did.” She answers with a sigh. “Help yourself to whatever you want. I’ll help look for Dino.” She said and gestures to where the kitchen is.

Jon nods. “Do you still make that amazing ice tea with lemon? No restaurant can beat you in that.” He says and stands up, rubbing his palms in anticipation.

“As a matter of fact, I just made a fresh pitcher when I came home. Knock yourself out.” Sansa offers.

When she arrives at Aly’s room, across of hers, she noticed the opened door and her daughter was peeking through the space. She pushes the door open and her daughter races to her bed with the giant red dragon already in her arms.

“Darling, I see you’ve already found Dino. Come on; let’s get you to your dad.” Sansa says and extends her hands out. Relief is imminent whenever an escape is offered to be far away from Jon as possible.

Yet, Alys remains on her starry designed bed and clutches on her stuff toy. “Are you and papa done talking?” She whispers.

She nods. “Yes and he’s drinking your ice tea right now! Let’s go and stop him before he finishes your drink!” She urges and together, they run to the kitchen, quietly giggling as they try and sneak up to Jon.

“Mama, can I bring your ice tea when we eat lunch with Auntie?” He tries to whisper but it’s still his normal talking voice.

She pats and combs her hand through Alys’s hair. “Of course you can, sweetie.” She said and kissed the top of her head. “Do you need anything else in your room?” She asks and her eyes and surveys her room that is painted in pastel violet.

She recalled, without any warning, that Jon volunteered to paint this very room. He insisted there wasn’t any use to hire someone else to paint his daughter’s room. With a flicker of shame, she also remembers staying away from her apartment, staying at Jeyne’s, because of this.

 “I’m so excited for tomorrow!” Alys exclaims as she slides out of bed.

“Yeah? You can’t wait to spend the afternoon with Aunt Dany?” She questions. She felt grateful that Jon’s family are so fond of their daughter who is born out of wedlock. In her opinion, Daenerys wants a grandchild in her life with Jon all grown up and working and his siblings have their own lives.

Alys giggles and shakes her head. “Yes but also I like seeing you and papa happy together! You guys are so happy when we visit Papa’s family.” She innocently answers and waddles to her closet and slips in a bright yellow jacket.

Sansa chews on the inside of her cheek. “Alys…”

The young girl sighs and nods. “Mama, I know you’re acting like that because of the rule but I feel happy seeing my parents happy.” She further defends her answer.

It still amazes her how their daughter remarkably understands about their whole mess of a situation. At her young age, she comprehends their reasons and risks if their parents ever find out about their separation.

They arrived at the entrance of the living room and witnesses Jon leaning on the kitchen counter, enjoying a cold drink of her own concoction of ice tea.

“Papa, please don’t finish my ice tea! Leave some for tomorrow!” Alys shrieks as she runs to her father.

Jon effortlessly catches and bounces her on his hold. He sets Alys down and finishes the glass of ice tea. “Well, since you said please.” He teases. “Say good night to your mom.” He suggests as he briefly rinses his glass, hangs it on the rack, and returns the pitcher in the refrigerator.

“Good night, Mama.” Alys whispers as she bends down for the little redhead to kiss her cheek. “I love you. Hope you have a nice dream, Mama.” She continues and smiles toothily at her. She glances at Jon, who was busy looking at his phone. “Papa, please say good night to Mama.” She requested firmly.

The adults’ eyebrows rose at her words. _Where did she get that from?_

Sansa felt as though there was a feather running down her spine when Jon’s intense grey eyes stare at her; like he could see through her or detect the rapid increase of her heartbeats. “Good night, Jon.” She whispers.

He nods. “Good night, Sans.”

She nearly demanded he should never use that nickname to her again. She doesn’t even know why this man stubbornly uses that word tacked at the end of most sentences he talks to her.

“Be careful.” Sansa calls out as she waves Jon and Alys as they walk down the hallway. She stares as her empty and blaringly quiet apartment.

Somehow, it seems quieter and emptier now that they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> found the draft of this story and the sudden motivation to write lmao. comments and kudos are encouraged


	4. What Jon Thinks a Family is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this while i was sleepy so it’ll expectedly be a typo riddled chap I’ll edit it whenever

“Someone’s at the door, Marg. Can you please open it?” Sansa calls out over her shoulder. She twists back to stare at her vanity. The beauty products before her are meticulously arranged in various boxes and her bottles of expensive scents are arranged in a straight line.

She sets the brush down and reaches for the tiny glass bottle and sprays the perfume on her neck. As she wanders in her room, gathers the things she needs for the brunch at Jon’s house, she could hear Margaery gleefully greeting Alys and Alys reciprocating her enthusiasm.

“Mama!”

Sansa turned and grinned at seeing her daughter. Even if the last time she saw Alys was last night, she horribly misses her angel. She swings her bag on her shoulder and opens her arm for the girl to race and embraces her. “Hi, baby. Good morning.”

“Good morning!” Alys greets as they exit her room.

It is always a comical sight to see Jon, a successful businessman, squirms under the fierce glare that Margaery sends his way. He sits near the fireplace, fidgeting with his hands, and avoids the redhead’s daggers targeting at his head.

“Doesn’t Mama look beautiful?” Alys loudly inquires as she holds Sansa’s hand and grips her ice tea bottle with the other.

Margaery finally shifted her hatred filled gaze and it softens to a fonder look. “Yeah, she looks amazing. And you’re wearing the dress Jeyne and I bought for you!” She praises with a smile.

“I swear I heard you say you just paid half of whatever this cost to Jeyne.” Sansa teases with a giggle.

The refrigerator closed in the kitchen. Then, a tall woman with her messy hair and mismatched pyjama, entered the room. She smiles fondly as her nephew walks to her and reciprocates her embrace. “You’re a beautiful little girl, Alys.” She gushes and ruffles hair.

When her friend made a sound of protest, they all laugh. “So sorry, Sans. I didn’t mean to ruin his perfectly made hairstyle. But I’m sure lover boy’s parents are so enamoured by your daughter at this point.” She casually says and pats Alys’s cheeks.

Jon stands up from the sofa and Sansa only now realized what he was wearing. Whether she would admit this or not, it has always been a once-in-a-month treat in seeing Jon wear something that is not a dull dark suit. Today, he wore a dark blue polo sweater and hugged his biceps quite nicely. He wore jeans and simple loafers. His hair was a mess but it somehow made him even more attractive.

“Jeyne, for the last time, I am not lover boy.” He tiredly argued.

Her older sister waved her hand in dismissal. “Anyways, I hope the three of you have fun you perfect image of a family.”

Margaery nods in agreement. “Yeah and we’ll be waiting for your early Christmas cards at the end of the day.” She supplies the banter with feigned excitement.

Sansa giggles. “Okay, good bye.” She says and holds Alys’s hand as they exited the building.

When they arrived in front of Jon’s car, he opened the backseat door for Alys to climb in; not that the girl would allow her parents to fuss over her. She’s a big girl now, Alys would reason.

Jon opened the door to the front seat and waited until she’s settled so he can close it. Properly seated on the driver seat, he turns to her and asks the same question before they create a façade of happiness. “You ready, Sans?”

That question always takes her back to the times wherein he would ask with those same words as permission before they start their dates. At times, she would pretend that what they do now is still a date. Maybe this is why she hasn’t been in one for such a long time.

“Are you?” Sansa found herself asking. She was rewarded with a soft smile.

“Ready than ever.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Driving up to his aunt’s house, which is in an exclusive subdivision, usually takes an hour and a half. Within this time, they usually concoct an agreeable story to run with when they’re eating brunch with Alys’s other relatives.

“Okay, so, what do you think they’ll ask us this time?” Sansa asks. She knew that Daenerys would be, as usual, eager to know details of their seemingly perfect relationship.

“Last night while we were talking, she couldn’t stop babbling about the Italian fashion show. She said you were there and wants to talk to you about this. Maybe she’ll ask if you brought me and Alys there.” He answered. His hands were steady on the wheel and his eyes were focused on the road. He glanced at her. “Did you want us to come with you? Have some family bonding and such?” He asked with a chuckle.

Sansa simpered at that. She hadn’t expected that her appearance there would be some news to Daenerys. But, at time same time, she could remember the times she and Daenerys went shopping in Europe when she and Jon were still together.

“I don’t know, were you too busy with your work? Did you want to spend more time with us than those stacks of paper works?” She returned the question with a hum.  _This isn’t flirting. We’re getting into details for our false story to his parents,_ Sansa protests as she saw Jon’s eyes widen a little and something like a blush coat her cheeks.

“I’ll always have time for my family.” Jon teases back with a small smile.

“But, isn’t there supposed to be pictures of us from the press?” Sansa asks. She checks their daughter over her shoulder and saw Alys sleeping and snoring through tiny puffs of his breath.

“We’ve managed to fool everyone that we’re still together for this long. I’m sure they won’t be suspicious of that.” Jon reasons. He swivels the car into a familiar path that is wedged between two long and vast displays of luxurious mansions.

Sansa lowers her eyes at that logical perspective. It does make her wonder how people don’t have any suspicions of their breakup for years now. She nods, her throat a little tight with something akin to a slight feel of hurt. “Good point.” She whispers.

The car drove in the red bricked driveway that led to the tall and looming mansion not so far from them. When he parks the car at the foot of the wooden staircase, a valet presents himself outside of Jon’s car. 

“Wait here while I open your door.” Jon said and before she could protest, he slides out of his seat and hands the car keys to the valet. He offers his palm up to her and she accepts as she slowly settles her feet on the ground.

She opened the door to Alys and gently shook her. “Honey, we’re here.” She whispers against her head and patted her arm. When the girl merely grunted, she drifted her hands down to her side and laughed when her daughter squirmed and giggled at the surprise attack.

“Mama, I’m awake! I’m awake!” Alys cries out within her laughter. Her hands went to hers but Sansa continues to tickle him. “Papa, stop her please!” She pleads.

Jon shakes his head as he too laughs at their daughter. “I don’t know. You were snoring loudly back here, sweetling.” He jests and taps his chin.

Alys’s laughter became louder and the adults’ cheeks hurt from smiling. Eventually, Sansa stopped and arranges her attire once more. She pouts at Sansa. “Mama, I promise not to snore that loud again.” She seriously swears and clutches her water jug and Jon’s hand.

Sansa smiles. “That sounds nice, dear.” She says.

When they approached the dark double French doors, she felt Jon’s arm curl on her waist and pull her closer. She inches closer and felt the familiar sense of comfort that now fills her stomach. These were the tiny things that she looks forward to whenever they visit his parents.

A tall man with silvery locks and wore a crisp shirt with beige pants and shined shoes stood before another set of wide velvet covered stairs that stretches where it leads to the right and left wing of the mansion. Aegon, Sansa recalls Jon’s half-brother.

Beside him, a slender woman with skin like sun reflecting on a dessert ground. Her hair, dark as an abyss, curls down her shoulders. Her beam is bright when her caramel eyes landed on the sight of her niece.

“Hello, hello good afternoon!” Daenerys giddily greets as she struts to them with her arms open.

“Auntie!” Alys says as she kisses her cheek.

The blonde grins as well. “Hello, Alys. My, you’re getting taller.” She says and pokes her one chubby cheek. She turns her attention to the pair before her and grins more. “Darling, you’re looking lovelier each time we meet! Come on now, let’s go to your uncle and aunt, Alys. I’m sure they want to meet you too.” She urges.

Alys releases her grip on her and races to Jon’s eldest sister and brother. Almost everyone in the living room knew they are half-siblings but to them, for each other, it doesn’t matter. They all laugh and smile at the excitement of the girl.

Daenerys turns to them. “And how is my favourite power couple?” She jokes and stands between them to slip her arms on the crook of their elbows. She turns to Sansa and leans forward to peck a cheek on her cheek. “Sansa, you look beautiful! Almost radiant if I must say.”

“We’re happy to be with your family, Daenerys.” She answers. The Targaryens are known to be fastidious in their preference of which they spend time with. Seeing as how they’re very dedicated to their family’s name and make sure their connections would help in strengthening their wealth or fame. 

“We’re all a family here! Honestly, I thank the gods each and every day that my nephew found a perfect woman like you!” She nonchalantly declares. They continue walking until they were near the other two Targaryens.

Aegon, a year younger than Jon is wearing polo short, beige pants, and loafers, smiled at them. He kissed Sansa on the cheek and he heartily hugged Jon, both of them laughing. “And the brood returns! Sansa, nice of you to join us for brunch.” He welcomes them with a dimpled beam she’s sure has captured women’s hearts at parties.

Sansa nods. “It’s a pleasure being here, Aegon.” She replies. She uneasily glances at Jon.

Jon keeps on shuffling his weight, until now overanalyses his actions in front of his immediate family. He only dips his head in acknowledgement. He then turns to his other sibling. “Hey, little ray of sunshine.” He greets and approaches her, completely abandoning his brother and aunt and gleefully talking to his older sister.

Daenerys lightly claps her hands so she gets all of their attention. “Let’s eat, shall we?” She announces.

“Finally! Aunt been starving me the entire morning. And I blame you.” Rhaenys insists and points to Jon.

He rolls his eyes. “Please, you love me.” He dismisses and drapes his arm on her shoulders since the dark haired beauty barely brushes up on his shoulders.

They gather around a long mahogany table. Aegon and Daenerys sit at both ends. Rhaenys sits at the right side of her aunt while Jon and Sansa sit at the left and next to each other and Alys beside her. The feast before them was certainly mouth-watering with varied dishes from gourmet level meat dishes and elegantly displayed salad.

Clatter and scrapes of utensils were heard as they began to gather portions of food from the dishes and eat. Sansa makes sure that although Alys eats a thick slice of steak and mash potatoes, she also places spoon full of salad on his plate as well.

 Jon and Aegon have slipped into a cordial and distant conversation about the company.  With one look, Sansa could tell that Jon’s posture is rigid and stiff. Even if his aunt occasionally looks at him, Jon doesn’t bother to do the same but only lightly smiles at Rhaenys who is tensely observing the two.

Sansa wanted to reach and comfort Rhaenys. She could see the same frustration and sadness that once clouded in Jon’s eyes when they were in high school. She couldn’t stomach the thought of this woman going through the hell that Jon, her supposed beloved, her did.

“Sansa, is it true that Loras Tyrell will be on the cover the next month?” Rhaenys asked. She lowered her silver fork down beside her salad and took a sip of the wine. The white dress she wore made her look like some pensive angel. 

“Yes, mostly because Margaery has extensive connections.” She answers. She sips her red wine and smiles in response.

Rhaenys smiles at that news. “That is amazing! Can I go with you and take a picture with Loras? I have every one of his albums and I listen to his songs at least twice a day!” She said and a bubbly laughter popped on her lips.

“I don’t see any problem with that. You can visit him anytime you like.  We can do it together.” Jon offered.

Jon’s half-sister was about to combust of excitement that she bounced on her seat. “That is an amazing suggestion! But I’d still love to see the behind the scenes.” She gushed. She turned to their aunt, holding her wrist. “Oh this is amazing!”

Aegon nodded. “Of course, sis.” He said and continues to slice through the medium rare steak.

Daenerys, on the other hand, briefly looked at Sansa. “I’m not sure. Sansa is a very busy at her job being a photographer.” She answers.

Jon grits his teeth.

Sansa bites the tip of her tongue. She knew the moment she met Jon’s aunt she would often feel insecure and saddened after every encounter with her.  In their own view, her job isn’t lucrative or honourable enough to be associated with them. “Ma’am, I’m an editor of a prominent high fashion magazine.” She coolly corrects. She didn’t bother to see Daenerys frown as she wipes the corner of Alys’s mouth; too busy licking the thick sauce to pay attention to what they’re talking about.

Daenerys seems to be unaffected by this and nods. “I thought you asked for my help in a particular case earlier? Shouldn’t we focus on that rather than some pompous celebrity, dear?” She presents the question with the answer embedded in the tone. “You have lots of potential in being a senior at such a young age. You shouldn’t waste your potential or time with things like this. You’re not a teenager anymore.”

 Her poise reminds Sansa of the senator Targaryen, ruthless and ambitious on the senate floor. But right now, they’re merely having lunch and surely there’s no need to talk in that imploring steel voice she’s infamous for.

Sansa couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of what their childhood looked like. From the scenes she sees over the years, she understands why Jon and his sister are the way they are.

It was almost pitiful how Rhaenys still seemed eager to be on the good side of her aunt; if such a thing existed. “I’ll do it after brunch. I can manage it, I swear.” Rhaenys pressed on the simple request of spending an afternoon with her.

“It’s really no fuss. The photo shoot is on a Saturday. I can come here and fetch her-“

“-I wouldn’t want Rhaenys to burden you. She can use one of the cars free on that day.” Daenerys intervenes and at the same time everyone older than her daughter stopped eating and stared at this scene. Sansa, shock and subtly disgusted by how she acted.

Jon ticked his jaw. “Rhaenys, I’ll pick you up at whatever time’s the photo shoot so then we can all grab lunch.” He bit out. Tension tightly coiled in his voice and it was noticeable how his grip on the utensils was like iron now.

“Th-thank you…” Rhaenys muttered, trepidation evident on her tremulous voice.

Daenerys got up from his seat. “I’m going up to the study. Alys, Sansa, nice to see you.” He calls out over his shoulder.

Jon heavily exhaled and dragged his hand down his face. Luckily, one of them walking out is their pacifist way of handling family troubles. He turned to her with an intense expression. “I’m so sorry she did that to you. She’s a fuc-“

“-He’s inconsiderate!” Sansa shrieks and reaches out to Jon’s hand.  She turns her head to see Rhaenys and Aegon are talking to Alys. And they are notably at a distance so their daughter wouldn’t hear their conversation.

He swiped his thumb across her knuckles. “She’s always been an, uh, idiot-“ Sansa arched a brow and he laughs. “Okay, he’s a nincompoop.-“ Now it was her turn to laugh. “I can’t ever understand why he’s so crass with you. You’re a glorified editor of a fancy magazine; that’s very different from being a photographer.”

She recalls the nights wherein Jon would sit next to her, silently fuming expression on his face, and it would be a dead giveaway to know he had a fight with his aunt. “Just don’t mind him. Come on, let’s go to them.” She says in a composed tone that always worked on him in these situations.

Aegon shakily smiled at the sight of them. “I was just asking Rhaenys to show Alys the game room.” He said and lovingly strokes Alys’s hair.

“Go on.” Sansa allows and lets the young girl to be led away by Rhaenys.

Before they went to the game room though, Rhaenys hugs Sansa tightly. “Sansa, thank you so much for letting me attend the photo shoot!” She thanked with a joyous expression.

Sansa nodded. “Of course, Rhaenys, it’s not a problem!” She adores the blonde so much that sometimes, she still goes shopping with her.

Rhaenys kisses Jon’s cheek. “I am so happy that you have someone like Sansa. My friends and I absolutely adore your relationship! I have dibs on being a bride’s maid, Sansa.” She jokes with a giggle. She bends down and propped Alys on her hip. “Just call me when you’re going home, guys.” She said and started to walk upstairs.

They both sat down across of Aegon.

A little knot constricted on the walls of her throat. Guilt built up in her. Rhaenys and Aegon are good people who still have no ounce of suspicion of their secret. It never sits well with her how they have them fooled.

“I’m sorry for how our aunt acted. Sansa. I know that your job is hard and much respected in your field.” He appeals in a soft and apologetic tone.

“Aeg, you don’t have to defend her actions because she’s incapable of feeling sorry for the shit she does.” Jon fumes but he softens against the sofa and smiles; to show that he’s moved past the initial anger for the carelessness his aunt has.

Aegon now comfortably settled in his seat. “I’m glad that’s settled.”

They talked about the time in Italy, fabricating stories that are based on commitment to their agenda or locked in wishes for what could’ve happened. And Aegon delighted in all of this.

 “Ah, here are Rhaenys and Alys again. Oh, they’re sweaty!” He observed the two girls behind them. Jon’s half-sister signalled one of the maids to approach her. “Please give me some towels and a pitcher of lemonade. Thank you, Lindy.”

Just as Rhaenys sits down and Alys on her lap, Lindy places a tray of fluffy towel and a cold pitcher of said drink.

Jon inches forward until he is seated at the edge of the sofa. “Come here Alys. You’re sweaty and I don’t want you to catch a cold.” He said and opens his arms. “Rhae, what did you guys do in the game room?” He lightly asked as he retrieved a towel and carefully wipes the sweat off of his daughter’s face.

“We just danced! I swear my stomach hurt from laughing too much.” Rhaenys replies and drinks from her glass of lemonade.

“Did you bring an extra shirt, Sans?” He asked. He held his hand out and she gave him a plain white shirt. He took off Alys’s shirt, neatly folded it, and then assisted the girl in wearing the fresh shirt. He gave him a glass of the cool drink and frowned when he noticed the women and his brother staring at him with smiles. “Uh, is Alys wearing one of Aegon’s gift shirts that have bad puns?” He asked them and inspected the shirt to have no bad joke printed there.

“It’s really nice to know that Alys will have a great father.” Rhaenys admitted softly.

Sansa observed the slack of his mouth and his he nearly dropped the towel at that gentle confession of his half-sister. Deep inside her though, she knows that Jon has always been wonderful father. And a far, exponentially better than his father ever was. Rhaegar was a callous man, always seeking to please his infinite and sky high ego that he didn't pay much attention to his family.

“I’m pretty sure romance movies are based on you guys. The only thing you guys need is a big and utterly romantic wedding!” Rhaenys brought forth a tricky subject; one that they haven’t discussed before coming here.

“I’ll be the flower girl!” Alys attested to this idea and delightedly clapped her hands.

Sansa hid the squeak of surprise behind her teeth when Jon curls his arm on her waist, dragged her closer, and kissed the side of her head. “It hasn’t occurred to us yet. Right, baby?” He baited with a smirk.

Heart unfurled on her cheeks at the sudden display of affection. She scooted closer to his warmth and shrugs. “A wedding is just a public statement of two peoples’ love.” She faces Jon, daringly looks into his grey smoky eyes, and her mouth curl into a smile; a wistful one if they scrutinize it enough. “And we don’t need that. We know this and I think that’s enough.” She whispers.

Jon leaned closer and their foreheads touched. He kissed the tip of her nose and laughed.  “Nice touch.” He mouths.

Her heart breaks a little at his delighted expression being derived from her supposed dialogue of lie.

They face Aegon and Rhaenys only to find them with their faces openly painted with admiration. Sansa’s plan seemed to work, much to her dismay and the logical, stubborn part of her mind. At least for a second, she could pretend that his reaction was of her words and not of the effects from it.

“I want a love like what you have, Jon.” The young lawyer praised. Her caramel eyes were bright with happiness at the thought of what she thinks is real.

 _I’m so sorry._ Sansa thinks as the charade stretches on to uncomfortable lengths. “You will. And when you do, you don’t ever let go of it, okay?” Sansa advises.

 _Like how we did,_ she wanted to say but instead she smiled at the soft look on Rhaenys’s face; wondering if she once had that same expression when she was with Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated. don't worry i have something planned special for u guys in the next chappy ehe


	5. Family Day

The car trip back to Sansa’s apartment is tense; as palpable as the rock song being played in the radio.

He has his hand on the leather steering wheel and the other clutching the manual stick, guiding his family through the expected mild traffic in a Sunday afternoon. Not even bothering to throw a glance at his ex, he notices Sansa’s elegant hands are dancing on the edge of her dress that caresses her knees, her neck moves an inch each time they pass by some street with a crowd. _She’s jumpy._

“Don’t you think we should tell them now?” Sansa’s high voice interrupts the guitar solo of the song. She twists the knob and half her body to face him and to lower the volume.

Through the years of loving and living with her, Jon is familiar with the expression she wears in that moment even as he drives past an intersection. He doesn’t need to look at her to know her chin is tilted a degree higher to appear challenging, her cerulean blue eyes, brighter than the sky, are sharper. Her mouth that’s coated in her favourite lipstick of raspberries (or something close to that because he can’t honestly tell the difference amongst her wide collection of cosmetics) is pinched in concentration. And he just _knows_ she has prepared arguments in her clever head in the time they packed in the car, waving to his family.

 _She should’ve been a lawyer like everyone else in the family;_ Jon muses but hides it for himself. The gods only know how she’d explode if he laughs now.

Jon sighed. “We’ve been over this a million times, Sans. I can’t just drop a bombshell like that to them. They love you and you love them. I, I just don’t want them to bend their backs over our separation.” He always counters with a consistently smooth voice.

He didn’t want to show Sansa the uncertainty he feels when they put up a show. _Is it convincing enough that she still loves me? Do they see past her empty smiles and come to a conclusion her eyes of skies have turned to ice? Do they see how desperate I act at times?_ The answers to these questions frighten him too much for him to know, to _really know_ and not lean on his doubts and insecurities.

When they arrived at a stop, Jon knew he was screwed. Even if the timer is set on 62 seconds, Sansa can scold him in that short amount of time like the she-wolf that she is.

“Didn’t you notice that they’re talking about a wedding? Maybe they’ll be pushing us to the altar.” The redhead reasoned. In the previous years, they haven’t skimmed along this type of topic. The fact they’re open and willing for such does raise a red flag on their plan.

Jon extended his hand and pushed down the hem of her skirt that has risen up higher on her knees. He stares at the still red traffic light as though willing, through sheer willpower and defying logic, to change the traffic light. “They won’t be pushing us for a wedding, Sans. Relax.” He assures her.

If he has to give out the explanation, Sansa will hate him for sure; more so than now. In the level of apathy she currently gives him, he tries to brush it off as he deserves it. But the fact is, he should have more than this, Sansa should hate him, throw vases at him, if she were to know the truth.

_She always wanted to settle down with a kind man and have a bundle of kids._

“Why? They think we’ve been dating for almost a decade now. These are good people we’re messing with and I don’t like it.” She insists. She didn’t turn away when the red turned green and the car moved forward along with the others.

These were the same rebuttals they make after the visit. It was like they were following some masochistic script for the cruel reminder on how much they’ve grown apart. Jon hates this road they always drive to. It’s a painful reminder of how stubborn they are, of how narrow minded on their different perspectives of things.

Jon laughs and she narrows her eyes in increasing annoyance; the sort of threatening cold look she acquired from her Tully mother. “Would you tell your parents we broke up five years ago and we’re only pretending so we wouldn’t have our asses handed to ourselves?” He said in askance and a bit of smugness that seem boiled her anger to a higher degree.

“What’s asses, Papa?” Alys questioned at the back seat. She was busy playing with her toys when that odd word caught her attention.

“Nothing.” They both answer.

“That’s unfair. We’re talking about your family and not mine.” She protests, meekly now, surprised at this turn of events.

He rolled his eyes heavenward. “It’s the same subject of deception. Now, would you tell your parents that if we visit them?” He debated. He didn’t look at her as he was still observing the road and the mild traffic.

“Maybe.” She mumbles and adjusted in her seat so she was staring at what he is staring as well.

“Okay, why don’t we visit them? I know a shortcut.” He prompted as he began to swivel the car to the familiar street that led to her parents.

“Wait, no! Don’t do that, you imbecile!” Sansa shrieked as she slapped his arm repeatedly.

The car stops in front of a nearby café. The song in the radio did nothing to alleviate the crackling tension between them.

His ex-girlfriend glanced out the window and her shoulders slump as she reads the sign of the cafe. “This is my stop. I need a chocolate milkshake.” She grits out.

 _Good!_ Jon wants to shout back at her. How is it the woman so venerated as a saint by nearly everyone can effortlessly incite ire in a level Jon hasn’t known exited? He grumbles curses underneath his breath, leaning forward and resting his forehead on the wheel.

Better to stop this now rather than to have a screaming match in front of their daughter; who remains has succumbed to a quick nap.

_Don’t do it._

But Jon has always has a poor sense of impulse control. He runs out on the street, like a goddamn lovesick fool Sansa adores to watch (and for him to sit through two hours of bullshit plot and sappy romance). He only needs to call her name once for her to stop, to turn and if it rained in that moment, Jon would’ve wondered if this might be a fever dream.

“Yes?” Sansa demands in that haughty tone, reminding him of how she used to mimic her mother in that detached civility to people they deem beneath themselves.

 _Adorable how she acts like that to me._ Jon dryly thought but he runs his hand down his chest, as a tic out of nervousness.  

“We’ve always been on the same page about this whole thing, Sans. I don’t want to disappoint my family as much as you do with yours. I’d like to make them think that I have two perfect things in my life; that’s you and Alys.” He explained. He stepped in closer but shoved his hands down his pockets. “I’m sorry I was an ass back there. We’re both scared here, I want you to know that.” He reassured her.

His throat constricted, as though his body is physically restraining him from being _more_ honest, from inching closer to the horrific truth of their separation.

Looking down at the pavement, he sees her high heeled shoes and when he looks up, Sansa is eying him with interest. It’s a new development from her usual _I’m-only-talking-to-you-only-because-I-should-and-not-because-I-actually-want-to_ cool glower.

She _literally_ takes a steps back, unblinking wide eyes, as she continues to asses him.

_Yes, I know I don’t belong to that family of blondes. I don’t belong anywhere, I think._

 “You’re scared of being a disappointment to your family?” She whispered, amazed and saddened as her attention is solely focused on his face.

It’s precisely like Sansa to pick out the one thing he hates talking about, his weakness, his insecurity that follows him like a shadow, like a dark cloud that obscures him from everything except for the bone chilling grief and self-hatred.

If this happened years ago, he’d clench his jaw so hard it hurts and try to find a way to avoid talking about _this_. Isn’t he supposed to be half-Targaryen, immune to things like inferiority and uncertainty of his identity in the cruel world? But he never embraced the unreasonable pride of _that_ side of the family, can’t seem to wrap it around his mind even if its surely embedded in his genes.

“Jon,” Sansa says his voice so soft that he wants to inhale her sigh of it. The manner of her gentleness made him think of how his mother would’ve intoned the same way if only she survived that wretched car crash. “You’re not a disappointment to your family. When you inherited the company, it was near to bankruptcy with Aegon’s poor choice of investments and such. But now, it regained the fortune, it even tripled, Robb mentioned once.”

_I don’t want pride. I want the sense that I belong._

“Aegon has always been a terrible at handling it.” Jon mutters, eyes casted downwards at their shoes again. How could one take that genuine compliment from the one they used to love so much?

“If they don’t often express their gratitude for having you, then I will. Alys looks up to you so much. Don’t you remember career day?” Sansa gazes at him through her long lashes, framing the sky like eyes even more.

Jon laughs and so does she. “She wore a wig and I still don’t know _where_ she got it. Then she proceeded to put shoe shiner on her face to make my beard-“ He stops, laughing too much at the memory.

“And then she talked in a rough voice and wore an ill-fitting suit, and pretended to be a CEO like her father.” Sansa puts forth. Her tone slips into a comfier one, reminding him of Sansa reading to Alys a bedtime story judging by the glitters in her eyes and her face falls open, vulnerable.

He wants to leave right now, ignore the soft inflection of her voice whispering his name like that. _Damn her._

“Alys will always admire you. To her, you’re this strong and hardworking man, a wonderful father who spoils her with ice cream and watch old movies way _past_ her bedtime-“

“-Hey, how’d you know about that?” Jon whines. They stand at a respectable distance, as though they’re having a nice chat on the sidewalk.

Sansa giggles. “Oh, she tells her mother everything! Now don’t change the subject.” She playfully snaps. “You have someone who loves you unconditionally. Maybe you could try and live up to her image of you.”

“Impossible.” Jon croaks out. “I never even thought of having a daughter.”

He wants to punch himself in the face. _I’ve said way too much._ “I mean I’m not ungrateful for her. She’s amazing and I love her so much-“

“I love you too, Daddy!” A voice squealed.

Sansa yelped and Jon held her hand in fright.

It was their daughter, smiling between them, holding Dino. She wore the same grin of mischief Jon has endured with Sansa’s siblings. Meaning, it isn’t good for the one who receives such a look.

“What are you doing here, young lady? You’re supposed to stay put in the car.” Jon said in a stern tone.

Alys’ smile went wider and in an instant, his irritation eased away. “You didn’t put the child’s lock, Daddy.” She laughs. “Are you and Mommy done fighting?”

Sansa and Jon share a look of apprehension.

“Love, we weren’t fighting. We were only talking.” She tries with a small smile and uses a reassuring tone.

“You looked upset while Daddy was talking.” The smaller redhead pointed out with a frown. She then stares up at him. “Miss Mordane makes us hug when we fight in class. Won’t you hug Mommy?”

_I’ll do more if only I can._

Jon turns to Sansa, an apologetic simper on his face. “You say I spoil her so….” He trails off, opening his arms.

For a second, he could’ve _sworn_ she blushed but before he could investigate further, she presses herself against him.

And Jon realizes how lonely he’s been all these years.

Her favoured perfume of lavender and something inherently sweet about her skin wafts into his senses and his arms go around her waist, pulling her deeper. Jon buries his nose into the curve of her neck and inhales like it’s the only source of oxygen he has.

_Targaryens are known to be greedy. You are not different from the rest of your kin…_

That internalized reprimands is what caused him to pull away but still keep her in his arms. _Why am I so selfish with her?_ He went against the wishes of his aunt’s to date someone of influence. She only supports their “relationship” because of Alys and nothing else. Sometimes, he endures her sugary sweet lemon drinks just to see her smile.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you Sans.” _And for everything I’ve done to you._ Jon wants to say more but Alys inserts herself between them and laughs at how she’s being squished by her parents.

Jon glances at his watch and sighs. “We have to go, sweetling. Your play date will start soon.” He watches Sansa, carefully tucking away the wonder and settling with that ict façade he’s so used to by now. “Bye, Sans.”

“Good bye and drive safe.” She replies, her tone clipped and she turns, walking in another direction.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

After dropping off Alys at Sam and Gilly’s house for the arranged play date, he drives to the towering clay brown building, about twenty stories high. He rides the elevator and stops at the tenth.

_Think of happy thoughts. You’ll cook for Alys tonight. That time you made Aunt smile because of the increased stocks of the company. The time Sansa dance wearing only your-_

“Mr. Luwin will see you now.” The brunette announced, tilting away from the computer. He fixes his glasses and kindly smiles at him. “Good luck, sir.”

He nods and opens the door with a clammy hand.

The first thing Jon notices is the large window glasses have their curtains drawn away. He can see the grey building with its tinted glasses. He sits on a mocha couch, matching that of his therapist.

“Afternoon.” Jon greets with a tilt of his mouth, his hand rubbing on his thigh.

The man is older than time it seems. His hair is only a few tufts of grey on the side of his head,, his face is kind but weathered by time with lines around his eyes and cheeks. His eyes were grey like mist and it matches his mundane vest.

“Good afternoon, Jon.” Mr Luwin greets back. “How are you?”

It’s always the same routinely executed inquiry. And yet, every session, he has a different answer. It still amazed him at how fucked up he is.

“I don’t know really. A lot happened.” Jon admits. It took him two years to be as honest as he is now. Initially, all he offered were snide comments and retorts.

Mr Luwin nods. “How about we recount your day and we can decide how you really feel? Usually when one says they’re unsure, they don’t like delving into their own emotions.” He smiles like Jon was his grandkid and maybe this is why Jon has been his patient for years now.  

So, Jon leans back, fondly retelling his day without interruption. He gets encouraging looks from his therapist. But then, he gets to the fight he got with Sansa and his hand clenches on the armchair.

And _of course_ the award winning psychiatrist notices. “You’re still adamant on this happy family charade?” He implies a notion, an observation within his words. “Surely you agree with Sansa that this is tiring? That you both are lying to yourselves and to your love ones.”

“You don’t know my aunt, sir. The only reason why she tolerates Sansa, her lack of political influence is apparently offending, is because of Alys.” Jon explains. His hands can’t stay still as he picks at the curling loose threads of the couch.

“Yes but it’s the truth.” His therapist points out in such a casual way that Jon laughs. “Telling them would make things easier for you. The anxiety of this situation escalates for you sometimes. And sometimes I think you’re more stressed about this whole ordeal than running a millions worth of company.”

“In my defence, being a businessman, there is logic and math and those things I understand. But my families? I can make a million flow charts and I wouldn’t know how to deal with this.” He elaborates with a self-deprecating laugh.

Mr Luwin takes a sip from his cuppa tea and Jon does the same, no noticing how parched he was from all these talking. “And you’ve been taking the antidepressants I’ve prescribed you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.” Mr Luwin smiles and Jon feels relieved he’s at least made one person somewhat proud of what he does. “Why are you so dead set on appearing crystalline perfect to your aunt? You’re a person. You’re allowed to make mistakes and learn from them as anyone else does.”

Jon relaxes _further_ on the couch, glancing at the clock near the window. There’s still half an hour left of him whining to Mr Luwin. “Because I’m a Targaryen, I’m not like anyone else.” He complains sarcastically.

“From the years you’ve been my client, you’ve never, not even once, expressed the conventional narcissistic actions like your family members.” Mr Luwin acknowledges in his tone of nonchalance but his words made an impact to Jon. This man seems to know everything, perhaps the secrets of the universe as well.

“Because she’s my family and I’d like to make her proud, just for _once_. She always tells me that I should live up to our family legacy which just means strive for perfection, be like  god if you can which you have to. And I-“ His voice cracks and he looks away from the old man, dressed in grey, as gloomy as his thoughts. “I think if I keep this up, I’ll finally belong to this family. My mother is gone and so is my father. She’s the closest family I have.”

Then, his therapist’s face softens with subtle pity. He’s seen the same look with Sansa. "How do you think Sansa feels about this ordeal?" He speculates.

"She thinks I should come clean. Ad she's always right." 

"You defied your aunt's wishes once for her, why not repeat history? I'm sure you'd make Sansa happy. That's always been your philosophy; make her happy and you're happy." Mr Luwin proposes. 

Jon shifts on his seat. "That's when i was dating her. And If I tell the truth, I'll lose her forever. And I-I can't." He stammers for a second before clearing his throat. 

Mr Luwin shakes his head, chuckling. "Oh I didn't mean about your reluctance of marrying Sansa despite your aunt has given you permission years ago. No, I meant to ease away Sansa's worries as well because she's also lying to  _her_ family and the Starks are known to be notoriously close." 

"Oh." Jon blinks, completely misunderstanding his words. "Different but just as difficult."

"That's life." The old man remarks.

"And I pay you hundreds of dollars just for that line." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a bit long because i ditched my draft and just went along to what i think should happen and i changed a few things too. i took my time with this and i'm interested to what you guys think!


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